


Suds

by MinerL2020



Series: SquarePants and Friendship [3]
Category: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon)
Genre: Crossover, Funny, Punishment, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:34:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27749839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinerL2020/pseuds/MinerL2020
Summary: After getting a midnight snack, Spongebob leaves the fridge open and ends up freezing his entire house. The next day, he is left with a terrible case of the Suds. Patrick attempts to help his friend, but his efforts only make things worse. Things escalate when Fluttershy shows up, and tries to take Spongebob to the doctor.
Series: SquarePants and Friendship [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029624





	Suds

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing.

In the Bikini Bottom-Ponyville area, Spongebob was fast asleep at his pineapple. In his dreams, he was standing upon a giant Krabby Patty. Suddenly, black storm clouds rolled in, thunder rumbled, lightning flashed. Then a Krabby Patty fell from the sky, and onto his head. “Huh?” he asked, catching it. He smiled, and the storm clouds started to...

“It’s raining Krabby Patties!” he said. “Yeah!” He ran around, caught a few in his mouth, before starting to shove a pile into his mouth. In the real world, Spongebob was chewing on his pillow. He woke up, saw what he was doing, and spat it out. His stomach growled.

“A quick midnight snack, then it’s back to bed,” he said. He tossed his pillow on the floor, and landed on it. A quick glance to the left confirmed his pet snail, Gary, was fast asleep, meowing.

“Aw,” Spongebob said, before tiptoeing past. “Sleep tight, my little angel.” He made it to his door, and stopped at his staircase. He started to gently place his foot on the first step… and quickly went down the rest, making a xylophone noise.

In the kitchen, Spongebob went through the fridge, and pulled out a jar of sea-nut butter. “Ah, here it is.” He walked over to the table, opened the jar, and spread the sea-nut butter onto a piece of bread, and placed it on a slice with jelly. “Nothing like a sea-nut butter and jellyfish jelly sandwich to help you get to sleep!” The sponge was proven right, because as soon as he sank his teeth in, he fell asleep. Unfortunately for him, the fridge was still open. Trendnails of cold began to spread throughout the house.

* * *

The next morning, his entire house had been frozen. We cut to the television, which was stuck in a block of ice, with a fish shivering inside the screen. In the fireplace, a burning fire was frozen in place. In Spongebob’s bedroom, everything was frozen in blocks. Then the foghorn alarm went off, shattering everything from its icy prison. In the kitchen, Spongebob was also frozen solid, shivering, before breaking out of the ice with a gasp. He was now slightly blue, with ice hanging off his nose, and on top of his head.

“The fridge!” he yelped, turning to the appliance in question. He slipped on the frozen floor, before managing to shut the door. He curled his legs to his body, shivering, trying to get warm, blowing on his hands, and stood up, rubbing his square body. He tried to turn…

“Woah, woah, wup!” And slipped and fell, sliding up the stairs, around his library, out a window, shattering it, all around the outside of his house, into another window, breaking that one, and into his room, sliding up onto his bed. He shivered again. He tried to sit up, and fell onto his face. He pulled himself up, having some trouble with his nose, and slid to the head of the bed, shivering. He tried to pull his blanket onto himself, but it was so frozen, it shattered like glass. Spongebob shivered again, eyes shrinking.

He slid his way to the bathroom, past Gary, who was wearing a hat on his shell, and earmuffs on his eyes. “Meow,” he said, watching the sponge slide past him.

“Oh, Gary,” Spongebob said in a stuffed up voice, sliding to the sink. “I don’t feel like myself.”

“Meow,” Gary said.

“Don’t be silly, Gary,” Spongebob said, standing up, and looking in the mirror. “I don’t get colds, I get the suds.”

“Meow.”

“No, Gary. If I had suds, I’d have bubbles coming out of me.” Ironically, immediately after Spongebob said this, he started to sneeze. He covered his nose as he did so, and pink bubbles came out of his large pores.

“Meow,” said an unamused Gary.

“I can’t get the suds,” Spongebob said, sniffing. “Because then I’d have to miss helping Twilight in her library!” He put his underwear over his nose, and sneezed, the bubbles coming out again.

“Meow,”

“No Gary, I like wearing my underwear like this.” The obviously sick sponge turned around, revealing two bulges that deflated, letting out some bubbles.

“Meow,”

“I’m not sick,” he said, glaring at Gary. “I’m going to Twilight’s.” He marched out the bathroom door.

* * *

At Twilight’s castle, Spongebob sneezed, pulling his pants over his head to muffle it.

Spike walked in. He had done quite a bit of growing ever since the convergence, and was now slightly shorter than Squidward. “Spongebob, Twilight wants to know what’s taking that replacement ink,” he said, voice sounding fitting for his new size. Spongebob turned around, looking pale, and shivering.

“Tell her I said, ‘right away’.” he said, weakly.

“Spongebob, what’s wrong with you?” Spike asked. “You’re paler than a winter-chilla.”

Gary appeared next to the dragon. “Meow,” he said, and left.

Spike gasped. “The suds?”

Spongebob shakily held up a tray with spare bottles of ink. “Here’s that ink she wanted, Spike.”

He sneezed, causing the ink to fly onto Spike’s face.

“Alright, Spongebob,” Spike said, wiping the ink off his face, giving the Sponge a stern look. “You’re too sick to work.”

“No Spike, I’m okay, honest.”

“If Twilight saw you, she’d agree with me,” Spike said, pulling Spongebob into the library.

Twilight glanced at them, and gasped. “Spongebob, are you okay?”

“He’s got the suds,” Spike said, before the sponge could answer. “He can’t help us today.”

Twilight gasped again. “Spongebob, why didn’t you tell us earlier?”

“I can help, Twilight, honest!” Spongebob insisted, before sneezing, a bubble popping on Twilight’s horn, and a few landing on her mane’s magenta stripe.

“Oh no you don’t!” Twilight said, sternly. “You’re going home right now! Friends don’t force their friends to work if they’re sick!” She opened the front door of her castle. “Now go home, and get some rest.” Spongebob walked out the door, going to a bus stop near the castle, where a shuttle was waiting. “Nothing personal,” Twilight called. “Just can’t have you spreading your germs to other people!”

Which was a poor thing to say, because a few seconds later, several fish and ponies screamed, and scurried off the bus as Spongebob got on.

“My leg!” said one, as everyone trampled away.

“Oops,” Twilight said, sheepishly.

* * *

At Spongebob’s house, the sick sponge was in his chair.

“Oh, Gary, I feel horrible.” He sneezed. Gary hid in his shell, bubbles coating it. The snail poked his eyes out, which were glaring, as the bubbles popped.

“Oh, Gary, who am I kidding?” Spongebob asked. “I’ve got the Suds, no doubt about it.” Thankfully for the fry cook, it wasn’t a work day. He sneezed again, blasting bubbles, and his right eye rolled down his face. “I’d better take care of this, before it gets outta hand.” He picked up his phone, and dialed.

At Fluttershy’s house, the pegasus was feeding the animals inside, when her pet rabbit, Angel, tugged on her tail, and squeaked.

“Oh, telephone?” Fluttershy asked. “I’d better answer right away.” She walked over, and picked up the receiver. “Hello?” she asked.

“Fluttershy, I’m sick,” Spongebob said, putting his eye back on his face. “Can you escort me to the doctor’s?”

His voice told the yellow pegasus all she needed. “Sick? Oh, you poor thing. Of course I’ll bring you. Stay right where you are. I’ll be there faster than a peregrine falcon.”

“Okay, Fluttershy, thanks,” he said, before sneezing, sending bubbles through the receiver.

* * *

Later, Spongebob was dressed in a coat, hat and scarf as he prepared for Fluttershy to take him to the doctor’s office. Then his doorbell rang. “Coming!” he called, walking to the door and opening it, revealing Patrick.

“Hey, Spongebob,” the starfish said. “Going skiing?”

“I’m sick, Patrick, I’m going to the doctor.”

“What?” asked Patrick, looking horrified. “Oh, you can’t go!”

“Why not, Patrick?”

“I know a guy,” Patrick said, walking into the pineapple, “who knows a guy who went to the doctor once, and the doctor’s office is a horrible, horrible place!”

Spongebob sat in his chair. “It can’t be as horrible as the suds.” He sneezed.

“Oh, but it is, Spongebob! Well, first, they make you sit in the waiting room.”

“Is that the horrible part?” Gary slid next to the chair.

“No it gets worse,” said Patrick. “They make you read _old magazines!”_ Spongebob sat up, and gasped. Patrick grabbed a Y-shaped piece of coral. “Then the doctor pulls out his stethoscope!” he said, putting it around his head.

“No!” yelled Spongebob.

“Yes! It’s a device so sinister, so icy cold, when it touches your bare flesh, it…” Patrick pressed the end of the coral to Spongebob’s flesh. _“Ssssss!”_ Spongebob screamed, flying out of his heavy clothes, leaving him in his usual square pants.

“No, _no!”_ he said, running around. “No stethoscope, no doctor!” He slithered across the room. “No _ssssss!”_ He flipped forward, and landed on his back. “Patrick, I don’t wanna go to the doctor!”

“Exactly!” Spongebob sneezed, a bubble landing where Patrick’s nose should have been, before popping.

Spongebob was on his knees. “You gotta help me get better, Patrick! Please? Would you like to be my doctor, Patrick?”

“What else are friends for?” Patrick asked.

* * *

We cut to Spongebob sitting on his table, Patrick standing behind him, wearing a head mirror. Spongebob sneezed.

“It appears as though we’ll have to plug up these holes,” Patrick said. “This ought to do the trick.”

He shoved a cork into one of Spongebob’s pores, and quickly plugged the rest. “Voila!” he said. “Feeling better?”

“I don’t know,” said Spongebob. Then he sneezed, and inflated. Then sneezed again, and again.

“Help, I’m shrinking!” said Patrick. Spongebob’s table broke under his weight. “No! Please don’t hurt me!”

“No bubbles!” said the now giant Spongebob. “Patrick, your treatment is working!”

“You think so?”

“Sure! At this rate, I’ll be cured in no time! In fact, I’m gonna call Fluttershy, and tell her not to come!” Spongebob walked out of the kitchen. “Thanks, Doctor Patrick!”

“And they said I’d never make anything out of myself.”

Spongebob sat down in his chair. “Ah!” he said. He picked up the phone, and tried to press a button, but accidentally pushed all of them. A dial tone played. “My fingers are too big for the buttons.” He handed the phone to Patrick. “Doctor Patrick, will you call Fluttershy for me?”

“Sure, patient Spongebob!” The starfish dialed Fluttershy’s number. On the other end, the pegasus picked up the phone. “Hello, Fluttershy?"

“Oh, hi Patrick,” Fluttershy said.

“I’m calling on behalf of my patient Spongebob.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m on my way to take him to the hospital.”

“Uhh, uhh, that will no longer be required! He is in my care as of today.”

At this, Fluttershy couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Both her logic and her nurturing instincts told her that leaving a sick Spongebob with Patrick was a bad idea. She didn’t want to be mean, but she knew Patrick was far from the brightest bulb. “Well, I’m coming over to take a look,” she said. “I’ll be over faster than a peregr-”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, the bird!” Patrick snapped. “Don’t bother, Fluttershy!” He hung up. “Oh, Spongebob, quick, Fluttershy’s coming! Ah! We’ve gotta make sure you’re well, or else she’ll take you to the doctor!” He ran into the kitchen wearing gloves, and dunked them in the sink. “Don’t touch me, I’m sterile!” Cue montage.

* * *

“Scalpel, please,” Patrick said. He spread some sea-nut butter onto Spongebob’s feet. Then put two slices of bread on it. Then put Spongebob’s shoe over it. “Feeling better?”

“Uh-uh,” Spongebob said.

* * *

Patrick slammed the door, attached to a string, pulling a tooth over. “Feeling better yet?”

Spongebob, missing a tooth, said, “Not really.”

* * *

Dressed in a leotard, doing gymnastics, Patrick asked, “How… about… now?”

Spongebob, who Patrick was jumping on, said, “I don’t… think so.”

* * *

Patrick put a giant band-aid vertically on Spongebob’s back. “Feeling better?”

“No.” Patrick ripped the band-aid off, causing Spongebob to scream.

Patrick put it on horizontally. “How about now?”

“Nope.” Patrick ripped it off again. Another scream. He put it on in the same place.

“How about now?”

“Uh-uh.” Rip. Scream.

* * *

Later, Fluttershy arrived, knocking on the door. “Hello, Spongebob?” she asked.

“Uh-oh,” said Patrick, wearing an executioner’s mask. “It’s Fluttershy.” Spongebob, strapped to a medieval torture rack, sneezed, turning himself into a ball. Fluttershy knocked again. “There’s no one home!” Patrick said.

“Patrick, you open this door,” Fluttershy said sternly. Patrick rolled Spongebob away. Fluttershy sighed. “Patrick, sometimes I just don’t understand you.” Then she heard Spongebob sneeze. “Hey!” She walked over to Patrick’s rock, where the starfish was standing. “Okay Patrick, where’s Spongebob?”

“Uhh, uhh, he’s not here at the moment,” Patrick said, unconvincingly. “Please leave a message after the beep. _*Beep*.”_

“Okay, now tell me,” Fluttershy said, gesturing to a second rock. “Since when do you have two houses?”

“Since I ran out of space to put my stuff.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah. Since when does your house have feet?” she asked, gesturing to a pair of suspicious looking feet on the side of the rock.

“This is my mobile home.” Then a sneeze rang out, and the rock peeled away, revealing an even bigger Spongebob.

“Hiya, Fluttershy,” he said.

Patrick picked up Spongebob’s hand. “Hmmm, the dirt therapy seems to be working just fine,” the faux doctor said.

“Patrick,” Fluttershy said, gently, but firmly. “Spongebob has to see a _real_ doctor.”

“No, he doesn’t!” Patrick argued. “I’m taking good care of him!” He looked at Spongebob. “Show her, Spongebob. Say ‘ahh’.”

The sick sponge complied, “Ahh…” and let out a wave of green gas, which killed several plants, and knocked out multiple chirping clams.

“See? He’s even worse than I thought,” Fluttershy said, with restrained anger, making a mental note to attend to those clams later.

“What do you mean?” Patrick asked with a clothespin on his nasal area. “He’s _fine.”_ Fluttershy yanked the clothespin off of Patrick.

“I’m okay, Fluttershy, really,” Spongebob said, before sneezing, and growing _again._

“I’m taking you to the doctor _right now!”_ Fluttershy said in a voice that bookered no argument. She trotted over and began rolling Spongebob to the hospital.

“Hey, that’s my patient!” Patrick said. He ran after the two and began pushing Spongebob in the opposite direction. “You can’t take him to the doctor’s!”

Fluttershy began pushing both towards the hospital, her concern for Spongebob giving her a boost of strength. “Don’t be silly, Patrick!” she said.

Patrick ran the other way, carrying Spongebob, being chased by Fluttershy. “He’s mine!”

Fluttershy log rolled Spongebob. “Spongebob, you’ll be better soon!”

Patrick pushed Spongebob in a wheelbarrow. “I’ll save you!”

Fluttershy began (surprising, I know) dribbling Spongebob like a basketball.

“I’m better guys! Really!” poor Spongebob said.

Then he was in a deadlock, Patrick and Fluttershy pushing Spongebob in both directions, and accidentally flung him into the air.

“Now look what you’ve done, Patrick!” Fluttershy scolded, getting up in the starfish’s face.

“‘What I’ve done’?” Patrick asked. “Everything was fine until _you_ showed up.”

“You should be _arrested_ for impersonating a doctor!”

“Hey! I’m a great doctor! Right Spongebob?” In the background, Spongebob came down, and started rolling away.

 _“GUYS!”_ he called.

“Huh?” asked Fluttershy.

“Spongebob?” asked Patrick.

 _“I can’t stop!”_ cried out the rolling sponge, who started rolling down a hill, towards the Krusty Krab. _“Help!”_ he cried between bounces. _“Me!”_

Inside the restaurant, Mr. Krabs was cleaning some coins. “Shiny dimes,” the crab said.

 _“Mr. Krabs!”_ yelled Spongebob, catching his boss’ attention.

“Spongebob?” Mr. Krabs asked. He quickly ran out the front doors. “Stop, Spongebob!” he called. _“Stoooop!”_ Spongebob luckily stopped just before he hit the restaurant. Mr. Krabs sighed in relief.

“Dah! Deaugh!” Inside of Spongebob, the biggest sneeze yet built up. **“AH- _CHOOOOOOO!!!!!”_** That final sneeze finally launched the corks out of him, releasing all of the day’s pent-up bubbles. When they cleared, the Krusty Krab had been destroyed, and there sat Spongebob, normal size again, Mr. Krabs glaring at him.

* * *

Now they had _finally_ arrived at the Bikini Bottom hospital. The Mane 6, Starlight, Patrick, Sandy, and Spike had gathered, with Spongebob on the table, being debriefed by a doctor.

“Well, Mr. Squarepants,” Dr. Gill Gilliam said. “It seems you have the Suds. Are you ready for your treatment?”

The slightly green Spongebob sniffed. “You’re not gonna make me read old magazines, are you?” he asked.

“No, silly,” Dr. Gilliam answered. “You get the Sponge Treatment.” Spongebob looked surprised. “Oh Hans!”

The doors opened, and in came a live-action hand, which gently picked Spongebob up, and carried him out of the room. Hans took Spongebob to a real-life sink, turning him into a dish sponge, and covered him in soap, before running him under water. “Whoo! Yeah! Whoo!” Hans began using Spongebob to clean the back of a man in the shower (Tom Kenny). “Bah ha ha ha! This tickles!” Then Hans cleaned the man’s foot, while Spongebob sniffed. “I can smell again!” Then Spongebob was used to wash a plate. “Whoo! Yeah!” Then to clean a car’s headlight. “Yeah-eah!” Then a floor. “Whoo!” And finally, Hans wrung him out. “Yeah!” At last, Hans carried a much healthier, and better looking Spongebob into the doctor’s room.

“I feel as good as new!” he declared, throwing his hands into the air. “I _love_ the doctor!”

“Here’s your lollipop,” Hans said. Spongebob turned around, and the man handed him a giant lollipop, getting a grin on his face. Fluttershy walked over to the recovered patient, and winked.

“A lollipop?” asked a wide eyed Patrick. He pulled out a bottle of bubbles, stirred around the wand, and blew a bubble. “Hey doc, I’ve got the suds too!” he fibbed, not noticing the rest of the Mane 6, Starlight, Sandy, and Spike smirking at him.

“Oh yes, _Dr._ Patrick,” Dr. Gilliam said sarcastically, as Hans came in. “We have a _special_ treatment for _you,”_ he finished as Hans carried the chuckling Patrick off.

They were back at the sink, and Hans put soap on him, and rubbed in all over him. “Hey! Hey, wait!” protested Patrick. The next thing he knew, he was being used to clean a cactus. “Wha- _Ouch!_ That _hurts!”_ Then he was lowered into a toilet, and used to scrub it. “Wait, this doesn’t seem _right!”_

Back in the doctor’s room, Applejack asked Fluttershy, “Do you think he’s learned his lesson?”

Fluttershy, slyly, and uncharacteristically apathetic to Patrick’s plight, said, “Oh, I think Patrick’s going to remember this one for a _long_ time. I know I will.” The others couldn’t help but laugh.


End file.
